lundi 30 juillet 2012

Sailing in the Doldrums

All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.


Another day in the Doldrums
leaning seasick over the edge
of a wornout brown couch
nothing but a voice in my head
to keep my blood flowing
Pump, damn you,

pump in and out
like a rattling tin drum!
I can't march, I can't speak,

I can't even think
for the life of me
and I'm not sure it's worth
thinking about anymore
At least a cool breeze
is blowing through the door

This is not a summer storm
but the eternal state of
gray we've been given
No wonder a light
will hurt my eyes
No wonder melancholy
feels like comfort
I should have moved south

when I had a chance
Where the sun might
have healed at last
these darkest doldrums

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